


Of Neither Mice nor Men

by Rynfinity



Series: The March of the Damned [17]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At some distant past point at least a few of them might have been painted.  These days, though, they’re just scuffed and a little bit rusty.<br/> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to <i>The Easy Things Are Never Easy</i> and will make the most sense read after its predecessors. </p><p>This story takes place in the same AU and timeframe as <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1607600/chapters/3422690">Fears</a> from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/104813">Out of the Mouths of Babes</a>; unlike the Babes stories, this one is told from Loki's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Venturing into the mysterious world other people call _work_ is fraught with emotional peril.

"Wow," Loki says as he steps inside. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, even though the door wasn’t even latched, let alone locked, and he can’t help but be a little taken aback.

He tiptoes a few steps into the room and then stops to look around. The place isn't what he pictured somehow. There’s no soft furniture, no place to cuddle up and read; just a big, gloomy, institutional-looking space with yellowed overhead fluorescents. One whole wall, the longest one, is lined floor to ugly, water-stained suspended ceiling with row upon row of metal cages.

Cage after cage next to cage on top of cage under cage, each of them housing _one or more cats._ Not kittens, either; actual cats, big ones, many of which - of whom? - eye him suspiciously.

Out in front of the feline gulag is a roundish enclosure. It’s fenced off with the metal equivalent of baby gates, along the lines of bike racks or emergency barricades but with the upright bars spaced much more closely together. At some distant past point at least a few of them might have been painted. These days, though, they’re just scuffed and a little bit rusty.

The floor inside the enclosure is carpeted with what looks like cheap indoor/outdoor carpeting, the kind some people use - to very 1950's ill effect - on their concrete front stoops.

It reminds him of jail, and it smells like chlorine bleach and cat pee.

So, yeah, jail. Loki swallows, hard. He should go, before he-.

"Hi," a cheerful female voice calls out behind him; Loki jumps half out of his skin and whips around, one hand splayed across his front. "Oh, I'm so sorry," the smiling, grandmotherly woman standing just inside the main entrance exclaims. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'd just ducked out for some coffee," she adds, all on one breath, holding up her loot in its rumpled white paper bag. "I thought I had time. Which I- oh, never mind. Hi! I'm Keisha. You must be Loki."

He takes a deep, shuddery breath. "Um. Yeah. Sorry." He's all triggered and awkward and twitchy; he knows his eyes must be like saucers. He feels ridiculous.

And like he might barf.

"Don't be silly," she insists. "You’re right where and when you should be. I'm the ass." She looks him up and down, lips pursed and eyes sparkling. "Tell you what, let's try this again from the top. You go back outside," she instructs, shooing him with her hand as a cat somewhere behind him yowls. "Shush, silly,” she says over her own shoulder, “you know your name isn't _Top_. Anyway, Loki, come back in and everything will be better." She winks. "Promise."

Loki raises his eyebrows, way up into his hair somewhere. "Go on," she says, flapping her hands again, so he does.

~

He ducks out of sight briefly, shaking out his hands and panting. He could simply run away now and be long gone before- _kittens_. Loki scrubs his face with both hands. He needs to be here for the kittens. _You can do this,_ he reminds himself. _It's just a door._

He takes one last giant breath and pushes the door in question open again. "Hi," he makes himself volunteer as brightly as he possibly can. "I'm Loki. I'm here to help with the kittens?" A little uptalking, given the situation, is probably okay.

Keisha steps out from behind the desk, slowly this time. "Pleasure to meet you, Loki! Please," she continues, gesturing to the cats, "come make yourself at home." She looks around at the sparse, banged-up metal furnishings and laughs. "Well, not-for-profit home, anyway."

"Thank you," he says a little stiffly. He's still kind of out of his element. _Kind of_ , like completely.

"Before we get you started greeting the furry troops," she offers, reaching into the white bag with both hands, "I got you some cocoa. My colleagues tell me you prefer that to coffee." She hands him a white paper cup with a plastic lid.

It’s steaming hot, and it smells fabulous.

This time, both his smile and his thanks are genuine.

~

“Now you don’t have to, of course,” Keisha tells him as they squat together to greet the occupants of the bottommost two rows of cages – the cats clearly adore her, most of them hurrying to the bars to rub against her hands, and one by one their happy greetings help Loki relax a little – “but I’m speaking for everyone here when I say we’d love it if you’d help with the cages and the big cats, too. You know, rather than just the kittens.” She turns to look at him, smiling apologetically. “But listen to me being all pushy and overwhelming. Let’s start with socializing and see where you might want to take it from from there.”

~

Introductions and a tour take up the whole hour and then some. Loki barely has time to snuggle one big, soft black adult cat with a round face and pretty eyes before Keisha’s thanking him for _coming to orientation_ \- and when actual grownups say _orientation_ , this is _so_ not what he’s always pictured - and gently herding him back to the door.

He stops and forces himself to turn and look straight at her, feeling a little shaky. What if she’d ruled him out right at the start, when he’d come close to losing it, and the rest of this had just been her trying to nicely get him out of here? Might as well rip the band-aid off and get it done with. “So,” he starts off, trying to keep his voice steady, “can I come back?”

She looks a little shocked, for a brief instant, and then smiles warmly. “Come back? Of course! We’re counting on it. In fact, you’re welcome to stay a bit longer if you’d like; I just didn’t want to keep you past what you’d signed up for.”

Loki squints a little. Keisha is still smiling. She seems completely sincere. He tries smiling back. “Can I hold a kitten?”

She laughs. “Of course! Have a seat in the ring and I’ll fetch you someone.”

As she goes to get a kitten from a small room off to the side of the main space - a barely-glorified janitorial closet which, as he learned on his tour, serves as their nursery - Loki climbs gracelessly into the enclosure and then texts his brother. _holding a kitten, be out shortly_ , he sends, so- so Thor won’t worry.

_take ur time :)_ , his brother replies; Loki breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

~

The kitten, a mini-tiger with one tiny white foot – hand? - is warm and wiggly. “This is Geronimo,” Keisha tells Loki as he cups the little guy carefully against his chest. “You probably met him over at day treatment.”

Indeed. Loki smiles at the kitten fondly. “We’re acquainted,” he agrees. “In fact, he knows me very well; he’s bitten my thumb.”

She laughs, delighted. “Only his special friends get that sort of royal treatment. He really likes this,” she supplies, scritching Geronimo under the chin. “Try it.”

He does as suggested. “Aww.” Loki can’t help himself; the kitten rubs delightedly against his fingers and purrs its best little squeaky purr. 

~

He shifts to check his phone, trying his best not to dislodge his little fluffy friend. “Ugh,” he complains when he sees the time. “I really should get going,” he tells Keisha. “Not that I couldn’t stay here forever, just like this, but my ride would not be happy.”

She hurries across the room and scoops the kitten back up with practiced hands. “Well, we can’t have that happen on your first day now, can we?”

~

“Nervous,” he tells Thor on the ride home. “I was so, so nervous. But it went okay once we got going. I think. Mostly.”

“The first day of work is always terrifying,” Thor agrees, nodding, eyes on the road. “But then it usually gets better.”

~

It does, too. By the third week Loki finds himself not only holding kittens – kittens he’s allowed to go fetch from the nursery _all by himself_ \- but playing with the adult cats and even learning how to do the cages. He has a regular spot on the calendar, his own coffee mug (for cocoa), his favorite _inmates_ , and an agency t-shirt.

Replete, of course, with plenty of cat hair and a few tiny holes thanks to his smallest charges and their razor-sharp little claws.

_Maybe_ , he tells himself, _this can work somehow._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People are trickier than animals...
> 
> (better short than nothing? I hope so)

“So, you’re coming up on your first full month at the shelter,” Dr. Riley starts in. “How do you feel about the way things have been going?”

Loki’s halfway between proud and flustered. “Um,” he stalls, “good, I think. The people are nice to me and the cats are great. It’s not what I expected,” he adds, thinking back to his earliest days there, “It’s different, but I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Different in what way,” she asks, a little bit like it’s a quiz.

He sighs. “I thought it would be- homier? Early on, especially, it reminded me of jail.” He’s learned to look past that and see the staff, the cats, the little balls of kitten love in the closet-cum-nursery, but it’s still more than a little jarring if he lets his guard down.

She nods. “How are you doing with that part?”

“Not so bad,” Loki tells her, shrugging his shoulders. “I kind of freaked out the first couple of times but I’m handling it better now.”

Dr. Riley finally smiles. “They’re very happy to have you, or so I hear. They say you’re just as good with the kittens there as you were here, maybe even more so.”

Loki has to look away. “I like them. They deserve to be happy. That part’s easy.”

“What part is hard?”

He studies the palms of his hands intently. “I- I feel like- it’s a lot of responsibility. What if I fuck up?”

“And?”

“They like me. The cats. The people, even, from what they say.” He can feel his throat tightening. “They shouldn’t. If they really knew me, they-…” Loki trails off, unable to finish.

“I do hope you do realize,” Dr. Riley says, “that your views on that particular subject are a bit biased.” Her comment catches him by surprise; he looks up. Her face is- sad. Concerned.

“Don’t,” he tells her. “Just don’t. I’m not worth it.”

She frowns. “You’re saving stray animals and helping ensure they go to good forever homes… and that they’re equipped to make a successful go of it once they get there. How is that _not worth it?_ ”

Loki laughs, not happily. “That’s kind of what you do, now, isn’t it,” he pokes rather than answering.

“Kind of,” she agrees, amiably enough. “What are you feeling?”

He inspects his hands again. His nails look good for a change; he did them last night. He’s been slacking off some recently, what with all the cage-scrubbing and everything. He’s almost gotten used to looking chipped and lazy. “Scared,” he tells her, finally. “Scared that I’m going to do something wrong. Scared that I’m going to hurt someone, or let everyone down.” Loki swallows loudly. “Scared that Thor won’t like me anymore if I don’t serve the same old purpose.”

“The same old purpose,” Dr. Riley echoes.

“Thor likes to be the hero,” he explains, patiently, for the millionth time. “He likes to take care of me, likes it that I’m helpless.” He doesn’t look at her.

“He’s told you that?”

Loki snorts. “He doesn’t have to.”

As he sits and thinks about it for a moment, though, he feels guilty. “Okay,” he offers, “that’s probably not fair. He’s been nice about me doing this, actually.” His brother has; pleased and enthusiastic and supportive. “I just feel like I need to earn my right to be there.”

“I get that,” she tells him, “I do. But you don’t have to buy your way to value, you know?”

He shakes his head slowly; it just isn’t how he feels. “If I wasn’t good for something,” he protests, “why would anyone want me around?”

“Why do you want Thor around?”

Loki looks up, frowning. “Because I love him. He’s nice, mostly. And hot. I- I don’t know what I would do without him. I would really miss him.”

Dr. Riley smiles. “And isn’t it possible he feels the same way about you?”

Anything’s possible, he supposes. “If he does, he’s even dumber than he looks,” Loki grouses instead.

“Loki, Loki,” she says, her tone a mix of fond and exasperated. “We still have our work cut out here, don’t we?”

He lets his head thunk back onto the sofa. “I think I’d rather talk about the kittens.”

~

“Or maybe,” he tells Keisha that evening when she asks him about his day, “it’s that I’d rather talk _to_ the kittens.” Cats are complicated, sure, but not in the same way people tend to be. People are just plain hard.

“You shouldn’t be so rough on yourself, baby,” she admonishes. “I watch you with our tiny little babies here and I think _this one has a good heart_. And don’t you go thinking I don’t know the half of it,” she goes on, “because I do. We _do_ do background checks here, after all.” She reaches out and pats his hand gently. “Can’t have just anyone looking after these little guys, can we?”

_That_ catches him totally off guard. “You know?” His rap sheet is anything but pretty.

Keisha nods. “But _you_ know what I see when I look at you? Someone who loves cats and is really, really good to them.” She shrugs. “You haven’t let me down so far. I don’t think you will.”

Loki isn’t sure which he wants more – to cry, or to argue – so he abruptly excuses himself and goes to get his cleaning supplies. Even after Keisha bids him goodnight and takes off, leaving him to lock up alone, he just keeps petting and lifting and scooping and scrubbing - cage after cage after cage - until the whole place is fucking spotless.

By which point his nails look a lot worse but his shattered innermost workings feel a bit better.

He’s just putting the last of the supplies away, rinsing out his rags and hanging them over the edge of the laundry sink to dry, when his cell phone rings.

_Hey_ , Thor says. He sounds like he’s calling from the inside of a tin can somewhere. The car, then. Loki cringes, expecting a lecture thanks to how late it’s gotten. _Do you want to pick up take-up pierogies on the way home_ , Thor asks, though, without even the faintest hint of irritation. _I can call ahead,_ he volunteers, _so everything will be ready when we get there._

Loki breathes a quiet little sigh of relief. Pierogies he can do. “That sounds- delicious,” he tells his brother. “I’m almost done here... just cleaning up.”

_Good,_ ” Thor says cheerfully. _I’ll see you in a couple of minutes, then. I love you…_

“Why,” Loki wants to ask. “Mm,” he makes himself say instead, followed by “I love you too.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People can surprise you.

" _People!_ Oh my _GOD! Where_ have you been hiding _this_ one? Hiiiiii. I'm Darcy." She says the whole thing on one breath, seriously. Loki’s not sure he’s ever seen anything quite like it.

He shakes her proffered hand. "Loki," he says, feeling overwhelmed by the way she's whipped through the space like a small dark-haired hurricane.

"My pleasure," she says immediately, relieving him of any need to say more. "Seriously, though, where have you been?" She looks him over, the way girls usually do buff, golden Thor. "I need to work evenings more often."

It turns out she's just stopped by to drop off some pamphlets. She gives the kid working the desk a big hug, stretches up to kiss (one shell-shocked) Loki on the cheek, hugs Keisha, and whirls back out the way she came in.

Loki shakes his head as the door slams closed behind her. Keisha laughs. "Darcy has a lotta energy," she says. "Don't mind her. She's great with everyone: the home foster team, the potential clients, and the guardian angels that keep this place going. You’ll get used to her.”

"The donors," the kid at the desk - Matthew - explains when Loki shoots him a confused look. "Darcy does by far the bulk of out fundraising. The old rich guys _love_ her. Hey," he adds, winking, "too bad you're gay. She likes the ones like you."

Loki isn't quite sure what Matthew means by that, by any of it. He _is_ sure he doesn't _want_ to know, so he just cocks an eyebrow and says nothing.

"Don't let her scare you, baby," Keisha counsels. "She's loud, but she's harmless."

He shrugs. There isn't any point in trying to hide it from her; Darcy _did_ scare him, a little.

~

A week or so later, the shelter officially launches its annual campaign. Loki's on the cat side of the house, so to speak; all fundraising season really means to him is a couple of spiffy new agency t-shirts. Well, that and a flurry of activity around the desk during what _had_ been his peaceful early evening downtime.

Oh, and a whole lot more Darcy, with her noise and her curves and her geek-chic hipster glasses.

She kids that she's just coming to ogle him – which she does, quite publicly - but in actuality it’s clear she’s really there to support the campaign. She and her intern (who goes by Ian; he’s a serious-faced British expat, replete with matching accent, who follows her everywhere like a lovesick puppy) pore over mailings and press releases and posters and online fundraising engines, not to mention spreadsheets and bits of math scribbled on sticky notes, with a fervor Loki's not sure he's ever before witnessed.

Sometimes he's not at all certain who the crazy one here is anymore.

He says _hi_ and minds his business and plays with the cats, careful to keep the little ones in the nursery when things get too loud and rowdy. It's fine.

~

"That's a good look on you," he can't help but hear Darcy telling Ian one evening. Something in her laugh makes Loki turn and look, only to spot Ian in one of the spiked black leather dog collars a local pet supply shop had just donated to their "Collars for Dollars" initiative.

It _is_ a good look and Loki comments almost without thinking: "Ian! Where I lived before, you'd be the darling of the fetish scene in that one." He turns away the second he realizes what he's said. Still, it's not fast enough to miss the shrewd way Darcy's appraising him.

~

"So you're into the club scene," she says, much less bubbly and much more intently interested, when Ian steps out to fetch coffee.

"Was," Loki corrects. "It was a long time ago."

~

He's uncomfortable talking about it in the here and now, and very relieved when Ian - divested of his collar and beaming proudly - returns with a cardboard service tray of assorted steaming beverages.

Ian and Darcy settle back into whatever they’d been doing, poring shoulder-to-shoulder over a stack of papers that rivals Odin’s study, and Loki returns to his much-easier-to-deal-with furry charges. Try as he might, though, he really can’t blank his mind.

It’s far too hard to tease the strands of his life _back then_ apart and inspect them separately. Everything is tangled up together – play, drugs, a vicious cycle of staying out all night and groggily trying to sleep it off all day. And, of course, of stealing shit to feed- to feed all of it. For a while his whole world had been an endless tangle of theft and pawn shops and drugs and clubs and _not thinking_ and _not feeling_ and _not missing Thor_. That, and being horribly, wretchedly bored, in the dank, ugly spaces between the clubs and the pills.

When the best conversationalist in your world is the loser who manages the pawn shop, you’re in trouble.

It all feels so far away now, and Loki has learned to be grateful.

~

The girl coming in after them – well, after _Loki;_ in the nursery one very, very young kitten is being bottle-fed and an older cat is recovering from a recent spay, so there are _cat people_ coming in around the clock in short shifts just to keep an eye on things – is a little late and a lot apologetic.

By the time she gets there, even Darcy and Ian are packed up and ready to leave.

~

Ian is rooming with someone around the corner, in the opposite direction from where Thor normally waits. As they head their separate ways, waving over their shoulders at one another, Darcy falls into step beside Loki. “So you used to be into BDSM,” she starts again, frowning up at him.

He’s not quite sure how to answer. He’s still into it, but he’s into Thor more. Ultimately he just repeats himself: “It was a long time ago.”

"Why did you get out of it,” she asks. She’s incredulous; that much is obvious, even considering how he doesn’t know her all that well. He hardly knows her at all.

“The people I used to play with-,” he starts, and then falters. Just because Keisha’s _totally fine_ about his record, that doesn’t mean the rest of them will be. “We stopped hanging out,” he explains, choosing his words very carefully. “And then the people in my life since then just haven’t been big into it.”

“So you just stopped,” Darcy finishes. She still sounds shocked.

Loki shrugs. “Pretty much.”

"Wow," Darcy says. "I don't know if I could do that. Not for anyone." She’s kind of jumping to conclusions – he can hear it in her voice, for starters – but he’s not in great position to set her straight. People outside the system tend, when he slips up and mentions he’s a recovering addict, to part like the Red Sea; they back away like he’s highly contagious, or they lean in and quietly offer to put him in touch with a friend’s cousin’s uncle.

He’s not sure which is worse, frankly. Either way, it’s not what he wants from his friends at the animal shelter… and it’s for sure not what he wants from Darcy. Not that he _does_ want things from her; if he did, it wouldn’t be that. He goes for what feels like the lesser of evils and lets her think what she will.

“I’m parked over here,” she says when they round the corner. She points in the same direction he’s already headed.

Loki only barely has time to open his mouth and start to agree when she inadvertently cuts him off. “Oh, sorry. You were talking,” she says. She stops for a moment and turns to look up at him, rocking back and forth slightly with her lip caught in her teeth. It would probably be cute and kind of hot, if not for how he isn’t into girls.

And he isn’t, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t all kinds of flattered that a friendly, pretty, well-liked woman is standing here procrastinating about heading to her car _because she’s flirting with him_. She takes one small step backwards down the street and then another, still gazing coyly up at him. "Seriously, don't you miss it?"

He laughs, to cover all the ugly, awful shit he’d otherwise be thinking. "Of course I do," he tells her, “but what am I going to do about it? You win some, you lose some," he goes on, smirking. Since she seems hell-bent on misinterpreting whatever he’s saying, he might as well play along.

"There's really good scene here if you know where to look," she presses. "Especially for a smaller city. You should come with me some night."

Shit.

There it is: _The line_. It’s right fucking there. Loki is startled; he hadn’t expected to run up against it so quickly, let alone with so little warning. "Thanks," he tells her, backpedaling frantically and scrambling for solid ground, "really, but I'm in a relationship and I don't think my partner would go for it." Which is a massive, massive understatement… he can’t even picture Thor agreeing to go clubbing _with_ him, let alone cheerfully sending him off with a hot girl who wants to- to what? To fuck him? Or just to paddle him? Either way, yeah, no.

The whole uncomfortable business abruptly reminds him that he really should have texted his brother. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Oh, my. It’s _late_. Loki’s surprised Thor hasn’t called _him_ instead.

"Bummer," Darcy says, smiling again. "I sure hope your partner is pretty special," she teases, "since it seems like you're the one making all the sacrifices. Hand it over," she says, grabbing the phone right out of Loki’s hand. She turns it to face him, so he can unlock it; he does.

She’s determined; he’ll give her that.

She taps away, thumbs flying over the screen. "There," she says as she passes it back to him. "Now you know how to reach me when you change your mind.” She winks and blows him an air kiss. “Sweet dreams."

“’Night, Darcy,” Loki tells her. “See you next week.”

~

All in all, he’s feeling pretty mixed up as he turns and heads for the car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because it's a stupid misunderstanding... doesn't mean you can't have a good fight over it.

Something is- a little… off. Loki can already feel it a block away, as he’s walking down the street towards his brother’s car. He can’t quite put a finger on it; it’s the sort of thing that puts his body on high alert and leaves him sick and shaky.

For the first half-block or so he tries to talk himself down, blaming it all on the lingering weirdness of his conversation with Darcy. As he gets closer to the car, though, it hits him abruptly with a heavy, nauseating jolt; the stupid thing is _empty_. His brother isn’t there. Loki can see the stark outlines of both front seats plain as day, their headrests all the way up because he and Thor are _tall_. The streetlight shines straight through, highlighting the gaps between the tops of the seat backs and the bottom of each headrest.

No one is sitting in the driver’s seat. Or the passenger seat, either, but that part’s normal enough.

Loki’s stomach lurches. He can’t remember a time, ever – all the way back to high school, even - when his brother was supposed to be picking him up and then somehow vanished. He slows down, eyeing the car warily, senses on high alert and all sorts of crazy thoughts tumbling through his head.

There isn’t any broken glass in the street or on the sidewalk. The car itself looks just like it always does: windows up and intact, no blood, no sign whatsoever of a struggle. The locks are down. It’s just-.

“Oh, hey,” Thor calls _from the middle of the fucking street_. “Sorry,” he offers as Loki curses sharply and jumps half a foot. He hurries across the street to the car, gripping one of those disgustingly gigantic convenience store sodas - the kind with 32 spoonfuls of sugar or whatever that gross statistic is – in his hand. As they both reach the car, Thor shrugs. He seems- _tense._ Wrong somehow, like everything else just now. “I got thirsty,” he explains, holding up the soda. “Want some?”

It’s wrong, all wrong, except for how there’s nothing going on.

“No thanks,” Loki says. He kind of does want a mouthful, actually – he’s thirsty, too - but it’s not like he’s going to say so. Not when his trouble detector is firing constantly, cause or no cause. He looks suspiciously at his brother across the top of the car.

They’re both tense. Edgy.

“Everything okay,” Loki asks, carefully, even though he knows it isn’t.

“Yeah, fine,” Thor lies. His delivery is too cheerful, almost ridiculously so, and his mouth curves into a smile… but it’s all in a vacuum. When he finally condescends to look Loki directly in the face his eyes are- almost hard. “Just thirsty,” he repeats, bright and phony; he hasn’t taken a single gulp of the drink he’s holding since Loki first spotted him. They stare each other down for a minute and then Thor clears his throat, still smiling that horrid false smile. “Cats extra-needy tonight?” 

Loki frowns, mentally flipping through the possibilities. Okay. Maybe it’s just that he’s late… so, so late, without having remembered to text or call. It doesn’t really make any sense, though; his brother never seethes in silence over something this straightforward. When Thor is displeased about tardiness, laziness, or irresponsibility, it’s all very clear. Everyone knows.

He glances at his phone, checking the time yet again out of nervous habit. “No, sorry,” he admits. “I was talking with someone. I didn’t realize it was so late.” It’s the truth, he’s in the wrong, and he expects a mild smack-down. Instead, Thor doesn’t react at all. There’s no yelling, no genuine warmth, no criticism, no relief.

It’s very strange, to the point that Loki’s skin crawls with it.

~

When “so, how was work?” (his third aborted attempt at conversation, after “the cats were really cute today” and “you would have fucking _loved_ lunch at the center; we had _the best_ chicken pot pie”) falls completely flat, Loki gives up. “Want to stop somewhere and get some dinner,” he asks, just to get out of the car, even though he feels like he’s going to puke for sure if he actually has to choke anything down. He really can’t sit here any longer, not like this; he’s so tense his teeth are chattering.

“No,” Thor says sharply, like it’s the stupidest suggestion he’s ever heard. “It’s getting late,” he qualifies, a little less unpleasantly, “and I’m not very hungry.” Which, if it’s actually true, may be an absolute first… at least if you only count the times everyone has been whole and not bleeding. “You can grab something quick at home, can’t you?”

“Um, sure,” Loki says. He leans back against the headrest and clenches his teeth. They’re getting close to the apartment. He can hold it together. He has to.

He doesn’t bother trying to talk again.

~

Once they get inside, things only get weirder. Loki tries to read on the sofa, simultaneously afraid to head for the bedroom and desperate to calm down, but it’s hopeless… Thor is noisy and busy and distracting, and they’re still not talking.

Loki gets up and turns the stereo on. It should buy him a little peace; it’s jazz, something they both like. Normally, he and his brother would both find it calming. Relaxing.

Soothing.

This time, though, it doesn’t begin to touch his stress. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t concentrate… because Thor is waging war on the kitchen like a force of nature and is stopping just short of breaking everything in sight.

It’s horrible. Loki’s exhausted. His every last nerve is jangling like a shorting door buzzer.

~

Finally he hauls himself up off the sofa again, smoothing his pants as he straightens, and stalks into the kitchen. “Okay, stop,” he tells his brother. He can hear the anxiety in his own voice, and it pisses him off. “Stop with the noise, stop with the bullshit.” When Thor ignores him, he tries again with considerably more force: “What’s going on? _Tell me_.”

Thor shakes his head violently and turns away.

“You’re mad because I kept you waiting,” Loki spells out to his brother’s broad, rigid back. He’s so frustrated and frightened he could scream; he doesn’t. “Come _on_ ,” he insists instead. “Please? You’re scaring me.”

That backfires. Thor whips around and gets right up in Loki’s space, herding him backwards step after threatening step - until he’s pressed up against the cold front of the refrigerator - and half-trapping him in place. “What’s going on? _What’s going on?_ ,” Thor snarls. “Why don’t _you_ tell _me_ , brother,” he yells, right in Loki’s face.

Loki cringes back against the unforgiving metal. They haven’t done this in a while; he’s out of practice and genuinely panicked, to the point he can’t quite think straight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Thor,” he tries to explain, because he doesn’t know. He was late, yes, but if it isn’t that he doesn’t have any idea _what _it might be. “I really don’t,” he insists when his brother only crowds closer, to the point where their noses are nearly touching.__

__Sometimes that’s hot._ _

__Right now, it isn’t_ _

__“Oh, fuck you, Loki,” Thor snaps, loudly enough to hurt Loki’s ears. A few drops of saliva splatter his cheek. “Stop already. _Talking with a coworker?_ Really? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” At such close range his brother’s features are distorted. Gargoyle-ish. “Why don’t you just go fuck her and get it done with? I’d hate to stand in your way.”_ _

___Fuck her?_ What? None of it makes any sense. “What the fuck are you-,” he starts, and then it hits him: “Darcy? You think I want to fuck _Darcy?_ ” But that doesn’t make any sense either, because how would Thor even… _Oh. Goddammit_. “Wait,” he huffs, heart pounding in his own ears. “Were you _spying_ on me?”_ _

__“Who’s Darcy,” his brother asks, straightening and taking a half step back._ _

__Like anyone’s going to fall for that _sweet and innocent_ shit now._ _

__“Oh no no, don’t even start.” The adrenaline takes over, and the self-righteous anger. If it’s a fight his brother wants, it’s a fight he’s going to get, because Loki is_ done_ with this hypocritical crap. “You heard me talking to her,” he snarls. “You’re blown. Don’t even _try_ lying.”

“Who’s lying?” Thor pushes him back against the fridge again, face red and fists at the ready.

_Nothing ever really changes, does it… no matter how much you tell yourself otherwise._

“So that’s how it is,” Loki spits. “Now you’re going to _hit_ me? All over a fucking misunderstanding?” He brings his own hands up, abruptly, and shoves at his brother’s muscled chest. “Fine, then. Do it. Go ahead.”

After a long, dangerously-charged pause, Thor steps back again and lets his hands fall. “Of course not,” he says, almost sadly. Out of nowhere he looks like he might cry.

Loki can’t shift gears quite that quickly. “Doesn’t _that_ just fucking figure,” he grumbles, still itching to fight. “You know, maybe I should have listened to her after all.”

It’s a cruel thing to say, but Loki just doesn’t give a fuck. He twists away, smacking Thor hard with one shoulder, and stomps off down the hall.

When he flops onto the bed, it’s with enough force to jounce it into the nightstand.

~

It’s more than half an hour later, by the reflection of the clock in the glass balcony doors, when Loki realizes he still can’t stop shaking.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Riley keeps an eye on things...

Dr. Riley is already frowning slightly when Loki comes in. He carefully wipes his own expression blank as he takes a seat, before he's forced to turn and really face her. "Hi," he says tentatively.

She's been at a conference the last few days, during WWXIV or whatever he and Thor are up to by now, and he's feeling- a little fragile. Really tired, too... Thor had spent the night on the sofa again, for the third day in a row, and - while his brother had been timidly (for a given value of timid; this is _Thor_ , after all) friendlier this morning, and the impasse might finally be coming to an end - Loki would be lying if he said he'd done much sleeping recently.

Dr. Riley nods, but doesn't smile. "Hi," she replies a bit flatly. "Full disclosure," she goes right on, even less casually chatty than normal. "Ginny Potts called me bright and early this morning." Loki swallows; his false calm expression slips a little. "She wanted to be sure I checked in with you first thing, as she was concerned about how things might have gone after your session last night."

He clears his throat. "Um. Things went okay. Better than a few days ago."

She cracks a little smile. "Seriously, I just can't leave, can I?"

He shrugs. "I didn't take it out on Arts and Crafts for Dummies this time."

Her expression sobers again. "And as much as we do appreciate that, I'm a wee bit more concerned about your wellbeing than that of a few handfuls of colored pencils." She considers him for a few moments. "You look exhausted."

Loki slides way down in his seat, until his butt is right at the cushion’s edge, and lets his head tip onto the chair's heavy, padded arm. "I haven't slept well this week," he admits. It's easier to talk like this, with the world all sideways and distorted. "Thor and I had a big fight."

Her eyes narrow. It looks funny from this angle. "The kind of fight where you get hurt," she asks?

"No," he assures her. "Lots of yelling, no hitting." He thinks for a moment. "Well, on Thor's end. There was some shoving on mine, but he didn't seem to care. Or notice. But lots of shit got said."

"Legitimate shit?" She rests on her table, cheek against one arm, so their eyes are in proper alignment again.

He thinks about her question for a few moments. "Some. But lots of meanness just for the sake of being mean. We didn't do very well at fighting fair, either of us."

"Was this over something in particular," she asks. Ginny probably gave her an idea... but Dr. Riley always does prefer to hear things straight from him. Sometimes Loki appreciates that; sometimes, he doesn’t.

He sighs. "This sounds stupid, given what you know of me, but it was over a girl." She waits, almost too patiently, as he struggles with how best to explain. "Thor caught- well, it was mostly _a girl flirting with me_ , rather than the other way around, and jumped to conclusions." Loki shuts his eyes. "A girl from the animal shelter. It didn't go well. He was jealous and possessive, so- _and_ ," he corrects himself, because he's supposed to be taking proper responsibility for his own actions, "I said a few things I meant, but a lot more forcefully and angrily than I actually meant them. _Mean_ them." Along with some things he _didn’t_ mean, but they can come back to that part if they have to. He doesn’t feel like volunteering it just now.

"What sort of things," she prods after a good two minutes of silence.

Loki feels abruptly young and sad. "He's like a giant spool of flypaper; girls flock to him in droves. Swarms," he amends, trying to stick to one metaphor at a time. "I don't even think he knows they're doing it. But I- I sometimes wonder why, with so many choices, he sticks with his nutjob taboo fuckbuddy." One tear sneaks free of his right eye and trails a little itchily across the bridge of his nose. "So he's correct in saying that I didn't discourage her, but his reaction was so unfair. Hypocritical." He snuffles. "So... I told him all of that, which was true, but I also told him he could fuck off and I was leaving," Loki goes on, volunteering everything after all. He opens his eyes and blinks at Dr. Riley, a little wetly. "And I lied initially and said he'd imagined the whole thing... and leapt all over him for spying."

She's still resting on her arm. "So, like you said, you guys fought," she summarizes without any real judgment. "How are things now?"

Loki shuts his eyes again, squeezing a few more tears out in the process. "I'm not sure." He isn't. "He was pleasant to me this morning, but the whole thing with Ginny last night was pretty brutal." He takes a deep breath and sighs. "He's slept on the sofa since the night it happened. We haven't had sex. I know it's only been a few days but... we do it a lot, you know? Usually."

They do. He misses it desperately.

"How _do_ you feel about this woman," Dr. Riley inquires in lieu of commenting.

He laughs, a sad little huff. "She's pretty and all, and friendly, but she has way too much energy. Ten minutes in the same room with her wipes me right the fuck out. So even without the whole issue of her being a _girl_ and all, she is _so_ not my type. It just-." His voice cracks a little. "It was just flattering, you know?"

"Mm," Dr. Riley hums. "Do you know what you would like to do?"

He doesn't bother asking _about what_ , because he knows she'll just hit the ball back into his court. Plus, he _has_ given it a lot of thought as he's been lying in bed not sleeping. "I want things to be okay between us again," he starts. He opens his eyes. " Between me and Thor. And I want him to come to the shelter. I mean," he adds quickly as Dr. Riley opens her mouth, "not to meet Darcy. That's the girl. Well, okay, maybe to meet her," he admits, a little sheepish, "but mostly because I want to see him with the kittens."

Whatever she'd been intending to say, she doesn't. In fact, she says nothing.

Loki pulls in another big breath and makes himself return to semi-vertical. "I want to adopt one of the kittens if everyone thinks it's okay but I live with Thor and Ineedtoknowhecouldloveakittenandtreatitright," he rushes out, words all jumbled together. "That's why."

Dr. Riley straightens, propping her chin on her hand. She smiles again. "Good for you," she offers. He's not even quite sure what she means, but he can feel his face flushing anyway. "Do you have a particular kitten in mind?"

Loki does, very much so. He nods so enthusiastically that a forgotten tear flies off the end of his nose and arcs down to splatter across his hand. "But I need to know he- it's a boy," he explains, meaning the chipper, personable little ham they've all been bottle-feeding, "I need to know he will be safe with Thor." This next part, he has to really watch who he tells; he doesn't think she of all people will take it wrong, though. "I'm an addict," he offers sadly, hugging himself and fighting not to rock, "and mentally ill. I don't come complete with a guarantee that I'll be able to hold it together." Loki blinks away more tears. "Not for twenty fucking years."

Dr. Riley nods, expression wry. "Yeah, I totally get that. That's a wise approach," she adds, still nodding, and relief washes over Loki so heavily it almost chokes him. "Well," she goes on after a few seconds, "I was going to remind you that the shelter is _your thing_ and not something to which you owe Thor access... but in this case, if this is what you want, bringing him there makes sense."

"Oh yes," he exclaims - he wants that kitten like drugs, like breathing - "I very much do want this." He makes himself stop before he starts babbling. "But I'm- I'm scared."

"Of course you are," she assures him, and if he didn't think she'd hate it he would leap the fuck up and hug her. "Taking on a pet, especially your first one, _is_ scary. It _should be_ scary. That's actually a completely normal reaction."

"No wonder it feels so weird to me," he jokes, finally able to smile again. They both laugh, actually.

~

"So, do you need to stop in this time,” Loki teases his brother relatively gently the following morning. There still hadn’t been any sex last night, but there also hadn’t been any yelling and Thor had at long last come hesitantly back to bed. “When you come by after work and get me," he adds, raising one eyebrow. "Maybe pee around my desk? On my leg?" 

From the storm of conflicting emotions that roils across his brother’s face, Thor isn’t sure if he’s being teased or chastened… which is fair enough because Loki’s not quite sure either.

"I would love to come see the cats and kittens,” Thor responds at last, and Loki realizes he’d been more afraid than he’d admitted to himself that his brother might say no. “So I can picture what you mean when you talk about spending time with them," Thor goes on, “but I- I shouldn't intrude on things with Darcy. Not unless you want me to."

It sounds a _little_ like no after all, but Loki doesn’t think that’s how his brother truly means it. He also doesn’t think that last bit is anywhere approaching honest. "You totally want to pee on my leg,” he points out. “Don't try and deny it."

"It's not that," Thor lies on, a bit huffily, and Loki abruptly wishes he hadn’t brought it up at all. Maybe it’s too soon.

Something in Thor’s expression shifts, though. "I want you to have this,” he says much more earnestly. “I do. I want it to work for you, and I really do want you to love it. I _love_ that you love it. I just-..." – Thor takes a deep breath and heaves out an enormous sigh - "I hope you don't find a replacement for me there."

Like _that_ could happen. "As if anyone could replace you," Loki pokes, eyeing his brother. Thor actually _flinches_ , and Loki feels bad. He wasn’t really trying to be mean… not this time. "Sorry," he apologizes. "Sore subject. I don't want to see other people, baby. And I don't want to see _no one,_ either, before you take that option and run with it," he adds quickly, because he can practically _see_ what Thor is thinking.

Sure enough, his brother looks _relieved._

~

As he finishes his breakfast and gets ready to leave, Loki carefully doesn’t mention the kitten. Talking about the rest is fine – good, even – but that part? That part has to be a surprise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good times, kitten times. In which Thor visits the shelter and nothing bad happens.

Loki is bouncy and edgy all day, so much so that Dr. Riley - and one of the leaders in DBT, completely separately – asks if he’s okay.

He is. He’s just never brought Thor anywhere that really mattered before, anywhere that was _his_ , and on top of that he’s out of his mind about the kitten.

~

It’s not like there’s any precedent. He’s never really seen his brother around animals, not as an adult. Sif’s parents had cats, and at least one dog, but by the time Loki was old enough to really be allowed to go places she and Thor were already dating. And no one brings his baby brother to visit his girlfriend… especially when the brother in question is as unpredictable and troublesome as Loki.

No one he knew in college had pets, at least not at school with them – not really a dorm thing, you know? Thor’s fraternity house had a dog, from what Loki remembers being told that fateful summer he and his brother had spent fucking each other’s brains out, but it’s not like he ever got to visit _there_ either.

By the end of college, there was… Jane. Her job required that she travel frequently, often immediately and with no prior warning – when you’re studying intergalactic anomalies, you go where Mother Nature takes you – so he’s pretty sure she and Thor’d had no pets.

Plus, Loki’d been- indisposed by then. He only met her once or twice, ever.

She didn’t like him. It’s okay, though; he didn’t much care for her, either.

Anyway, the long and short of it is this: Loki has no clue whatsoever if Thor is even _pet-compatible_. His brother can be a roaring hurricane, but also incredibly gentle. Anything is possible.

~

One thing Loki does know: They will both have to learn to dial it down if they’re going to take this on. From what he’s been told, and what he’s learned doing his own research, cats have very acute hearing and are often highly attuned to strong emotions in their human families.

The very, very last thing in the world he wants to do is put a poor cat through the wringer because he and Thor can’t keep their tempers in check.

If on the other hand they _can_ manage it, Loki’s certain, a pet – this particular kitten, especially, a little orange earth angel who could not possibly be more adorable and yet still exist – might give them exactly what they need; a reason to keep their shit together that is bigger than the both of them.

~

When he gets to the shelter, Loki briefs Matthew: “My partner is stopping in today. I want him to meet Mac. Except he doesn’t know that,” he explains, a little guiltily. “So play along, for me?”

Matthew grins. “Ooooh, the Pet Test. Must be serious.” They share a friendly laugh, partly because Loki is adept at reading between the lines; he’s quite relieved to hear that this particular sort of weirdness is actually _normal._

~

Thor must have left work early; he shows up in the doorway of the shelter, big and shining and too good for the place, quite some time before Loki himself is done working. If he’d had to wait this long each time, there’s no way he wouldn’t have said something to that effect – even if he wasn’t overtly complaining about it - by now.

“Stand in here,” Loki orders his brother after a perfunctory hug – his hands are dirty, and he’s stressed and distracted - “and don’t step on anyone.” He gestures to the enclosure; Thor steels himself, squaring his big shoulders, and then swings a leg over.

Loki hefts the next cat and walks over to the ring. He stretches up on tiptoe, reaches over the top, and bends from the hips to set the cat down a few feet away from Thor. Sometimes he lets _the residents_ play together while he cleans, in rambunctious groups of three or four at a time, but he doesn’t want to start right off by overwhelming his brother; even with just one cat in the ring, Thor looks- well, just this side of petrified.

~

Matthew and Thor make quiet small talk as Loki scrubs and wipes and sprays. While he doesn’t exactly eavesdrop – he’s right here in the room, after all, plain as (a changeable, downpour-out-of-a-clear-blue-sky sort of) day – Loki doesn’t quite stop listening either.

"I don't think they like me," his brother worries after Loki swaps one cat for another the third or fourth time.

Behind him, Matthew laughs. "They're not dogs," he explains, railing clattering as he clambers into the ring with Thor. "They're cautious. They need time to warm up to you. See?" Loki twists to sneak a quick peek as Matthew scoops up the cat – a cuddly, lovely tabby girl; the perfect starter cat - and Thor reaches tentatively out to give her head a quick scritching. "So, how do you and Loki know each other,” Matthew asks, as Thor gives the cat another gingerly pat; Loki smiles to himself and turns back to what he’s supposed to be doing.

~

For a while he does manage to tune them out nearly completely. He’s almost entirely lost in his own thoughts when Thor’s voice comes up several decibels and startles him out of his reverie. "Which cat is your favorite," his brother asks, much more cheerful and relaxed now. "That black one is pretty.”

His brother sounds normal and happy.

It feels like a sign. A hopeful, good sign.

"I have a soft spot for the senior citizens," Matthew tells Thor, as Loki calls the tabby – newly freed – to the near side of the enclosure and picks her up. "They don't deserve to be homeless and lonely. It’s sad, you know? Old cats should be warm and cozy in someone's lap,” Loki can still hear Matthew explaining solemnly as he latches the tabby’s cage and quickly makes his own way towards the nursery.

Darcy will be here any minute now, and he wants to get this part taken care of first.

~

“Shh,” he soothes, scooping Mac out of the miniature den and cuddling the tiny, wriggling kitten close. “It’s just me. You’re fine.” At the sound of his voice Mac relaxes against his chest and Loki’s heart feels like it’s going to burst.

_Please please please please please._

He sucks in a ginormous breath, doing everything in his power to calm himself so he doesn’t scare his little charge, and walks back out into the main room.

~

Thor and Matthew both look up and smile as Loki walks over. One after another they step out of the empty ring. "Put your hands out," Loki instructs as he pads softly up to Thor, making sure not to jostle the kitten. "Be careful - he's fragile," he tells his wide-eyed brother as he gently sets Mac, needle claws and Christmas tree tail and all, in Thor’s outstretched hands.

He holds his breath as his brother delicately brings the kitten close.

"Ohhh," Thor says as Mac settles happily against his chest. He uses his normal speaking voice; it’s not jarringly loud, but he immediately looks both horrified and guilty. "Sorry," he offers in a much softer whisper. "It's- _he's_ \- I think he's purring!" He beams. The two golden boys are made for each other.

_Thank fucking god._

"He likes you," Loki tells his brother, and Thor’s face lights up.

"I can't believe how small he is," his brother whispers, holding Mac against his chest with one hand and stroking the kitten’s round little head with one big finger.

Loki smiles back. "He's only just three weeks old. We've all been bottle-feeding him. Marci here," he explains, angling his head at one of the cages, "thinks she's his mother. Which is great, of course, but she isn't." He reaches out to touch a finger to Mac’s tiny nose; the kitten squeaks a small complaint. "So we have to help out. He's doing great, though."

Mac’s a little miracle; he lost his mother way too young. Loki can’t help but be very, very proud of how well they’ve all done with him. That, and he loves the tiny fluffy guy like nobody’s business.

~

Loki spots Darcy at the door just before the chime sounds. He plants one palm firmly against his brother’s chest, just to make sure Mac is safe, and lunges forward to kiss Thor as though he’s starving. Which he kind of is, after the week it’s been. "Ouch," Thor complains as their teeth connect. Loki inclines his head for a better angle, fists his other hand in his brother’s hair, and licks roughly into Thor’s mouth.

This time, his brother doesn’t fight it. In fact, he kisses back, hard and desperate, and Loki almost for-...

"Loki," Darcy calls out from just inside the door, a little too loudly. "How’s it-? Oh. _OH._ Oooh, you _go_ , boys!"

He pulls back slightly, smiling as Thor enthusiastically chases his mouth and ends up planting a wet kiss on his jaw as he turns to greet her. "Hi, Darcy," he offers, laughing. "Thor, Darcy,” he says, looking from one to the other and back. “Darcy, this is my partner, Thor."

Darcy eyes Thor as though she’s died and gone to heaven. "Whew,” she exclaims, grinning as she fans herself. "Good job, Loki. You caught a fine one. He's hot. You're _so_ hot," she tells Thor with reverence, and Loki can only assume this particular problem has just solved itself.

He’s feeling good right now, what with Mac here between them and the electric hum of that _real-feeling_ kiss still coursing through him; he’s not even jealous.

“Look at you,” Darcy tacks on, before Thor can find his voice.

"Nice to meet you," he manages, finally. "I would offer to shake," he offers politely, "but- kitten?"

"That's okay," she assures him, beaming. "You can owe me."

She can talk all she wants. From the look on his brother’s face, Loki is absolutely positive Thor is _all his_.

~

Thor hovers close as Loki goes to put Mac back in his nest. “I’ll be back in just a second,” he reassures his brother; visitors aren’t allowed in the nursery.

~

It’s not ten minutes before they’re walking to the car.

They chat a little along the way, mostly idle teasing. Things are _okay_.

Once they’re situated in the car and on their way to dinner, Thor rests a hand on Loki’s thigh. When he threads their fingers together his brother lets him, and Loki heaves a giant, silent sigh of relief.

Nothing is resolved, not completely, but for the first time in days he feels like maybe it can be.

That, and Thor _likes_ Mac. A lot. Loki can just _tell_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all there on the playground - the swings, the teeter-totter, the slide.

During the morning ride to day treatment, Loki is all smiles. So much so that - "hey, Loki-Pokey, d'you win the lottery or something?" - the driver, his usual driver, feels the need to comment. He smiles at the guard, smiles at every single one of the people at the desk when he picks up his schedule, smiles at everyone he sees in the hall. By the time he makes his way to Dr. Riley’s office, a couple of minutes before the start of his session, he’s positively beaming. 

"I think we're going to get the kitten," he blurts out before she can even say hello. He can’t help it; he isn't sure he's ever been quite this excited, as an adult at least, over something _good_. "Thor keeps asking about him, every day now. In a couple of weeks the little guy will be ready to go. Oh, and," Loki adds as he slides into the closest chair and teeters on the edge of the seat cushion, "Thor is coming to visit the shelter again tonight. If I can just get the two of them playing... it’s all over. Done deal. There will simply be no stopping it."

Dr. Riley returns his smile, corners of her eyes crinkling. "And apparently I don't need to waste any time - either mine or yours - prying how you feel about that out of you."

Loki laughs. "Um, no?" He bounces a little.

She leans back in her own chair, expression thoughtful. "You know it's my job to ask the hard questions," she says after a minute or so of charged silence. He nods. "I don't do it to be mean, or to bring you down."

He gulps. She’s right, sure, but that doesn’t mean he has to like the sound of this. "I know," he assures her. He takes a deep breath. "So, do tell… you're glad for me, _but-?_ "

"No but," she tells him. "I just want to run back through some of your initial concerns and see how you're doing at addressing them."

~

In the end it’s not quite as bad as it sounds. Loki has already done a lot of thinking around this, and no little amount of talking with Thor. While he hasn't yet come right out and asked the _what if I’m gone_ question point-blank (he knows he should; he’s not sure he can, though, and Thor’s emotions around the whole business are just too much to handle most of the time), Loki's much more confident now that his brother actually likes Mac and isn't just going along with Operation Kitten to humor him.

He's also gotten a great resource guide from Keisha, something Thor can rely on if needed. _When needed_ , really; even if he stays physically and mentally healthy – and clean – there are bound to be days Loki just isn’t available when Mac needs something. All that, and it gets even better: Keisha has promised - and she _keeps_ her promises; Loki has experienced her guarantees personally, and he can feel her conviction in his _bones_ \- that, if anything happens to him (be it minor or major, brief or- or forever), she will make sure Mac and Thor have everything they need to succeed. She's pledged not to separate man and pet unless necessary; in a perfect world, Loki doesn’t want her giving up on either of them. That said, he’s still certain she'll do it if she has to.

Keisha is a social worker herself, it turns out, in her _other job_. Just in the short time he's been working at the shelter Loki’s seen her work magic coaching people through all kinds of delicate cat/person and person/person situations. Where needed she partners with a local veterinarian, a sincere, soft-spoken older man who specializes in feline psycho-behavioral issues and provides pro-bono support to their lower-income clients.

Not that Thor couldn't - or wouldn't; cheaping out just isn’t his brother’s modus operandi, not now, not ever - pay, but it's a great comfort to Loki to know the right people are _out there somewhere_.

The icing on the cake? They think he's _smart to be cautious and prepared_ , rather than (okay, rather than _just_ ) batshit crazy.

If it takes a village to help Thor raise this kitten, well, Loki's gone and found him one.

So, he's prepared for Dr. Riley's questions. Every one of them; even the ones that usually trip him up, like _how would you like to see this turn out?_

 _That_ one is actually easy.

By the end of the session, they're both back to smiling. It's novel, and a nice fucking change.

~

DBT isn't fun, exactly, but Loki's still in a good mood and that carries him past the worst of it. For once he finds he’s actually willing and able to contribute a couple of solid relationship skills examples. One, yes, is a glaring _don't_ , but that's fine too - no one expects everything they share to be success stories.

That’s why they're here.

~

The tail end of the afternoon crawls. Loki is ready to swear the clock is actually running backwards by the time he’s finally en route to the shelter. Usually someone on the center staff - the dietitian who actually runs the place, or any one of the three or four other people who drive past it each evening - gives Loki a lift. Today, though, there's a late meeting and he's stuck hitching a ride on one of the vans. 

He’s not a giant fan. The things are rolling advertisements, albeit high-class, discrete ones, and now that he's crawled a little farther out of the proverbial shithole he's a little embarrassed showing up in one. If it has to be, though, it has to be. Mac and Thor are waiting at the other end of his miserable little journey

To distract himself, Loki digs out his phone... which - by center rules - has rested untouched in his locker since first thing this morning.

There they are, right there on the lock screen plain as motherfucking day:

_hey lucky hrd ur off 2 a slo start thr got sum peeps 4 u txt me k?_  
 _srsly man when u rlize the mistake ur makin gochr back_

The number is programmed into his phone, from the not-so-good old days. He hasn’t used it – and it hasn’t used him – in so long he’s practically forgotten it’s there: _A-Team_. As in, it’s one of Algrim’s lackeys. One of _Malekith’s_ lackeys.

Fuck.

He shoves his phone back in his pocket without even unlocking it.

Loki has never actually experienced ice water in his veins. Even so, he’s pretty sure this is exactly what it feels like.

~

Thor does show up at the shelter, right on schedule. Loki tries to roll with it like nothing’s wrong, but he’s too rattled and too sick with worry and he does a shit job of it.

They don’t fight, and Thor _does_ play beautifully with the kitten-who-is-now-a-catlet.

It doesn’t matter. Loki can’t function; he can’t focus.

~

They _almost_ fight on the way home. Several times, really.

~

Once they’re home, his brother lets him pace a while and then tries a peace offering: “Do you want some popcorn?”

He will puke if he eats. “No,” he snaps, temper frayed nearly to breaking. “Would you _please_ just le-…” With huge effort, he pulls himself up short. None of this is Thor’s fault. “I’m sorry,” he tells his brother quietly. “I’m being an asshole. I don’t mean to be.”

He’s not really paying attention, but he thinks Thor must accept the apology.

~

For a long time they sit on the sofa, together but apart. His brother doesn’t pry, which somehow manages to be more pressure than the endless nagging ever was.

After an eternity, Loki takes a few deep breaths (that don’t help at all). “I got a text from someone today,” he explains, shaking again just thinking about it… he hasn’t been able to look at his phone again, not since the ride to the center. “And it- it got to me. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid, Thor,” he adds, and it feels like he’s suffocating. “I’m sick of being afraid.”

“A text,” his brother says, carefully.

Loki hugs himself and curls forward onto his own knees. “From one of Malekith’s guys,” he clarifies. “Offering to set me up with someone here. Someone who will sell me narcotics.” He needs to spell it out somehow, not for Thor but for himself. “Because he’s sure I’m going to relapse eventually.” He clears his throat. “ _When you realize the mistake you’re making_ , the text said.” He turns to look over one shoulder at his brother. “I don’t want to go back to it,” he says, starting to cry. “I can’t. It will kill me.”

Thor rubs a big hand gently up and down Loki’s back. “Shh,” he soothes, still rubbing. Petting, even. “You’re safe here,” he says, warm and quick and reassuring. “If you don’t want to go back to it, you don’t have to. I promise.”

~

Loki picks at the bottom of his shirt. “He thinks I'm just too weak to beat it forever,” he tells his brother sadly.

"But you're not weak," Thor assures him. "You're the strongest person I know.” Loki wrinkles his nose; he’s not feeling very strong just now. He’s feeling like shit, actually. “Seriously," Thor goes on, "I mean that, every bit of it. You've been through so much and- and yet here you are."

 _Here I am in fucking hell,_ Loki thinks but doesn’t say. _In fucking hell, and I’ve lost the exit._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things can almost always be salvaged with a little work.

"It's like- my fallback boyfriend, you know? My backup lover. My safety net." Loki snorts. "I know, I know: some fucking kind of safe it makes me." He shrugs a little. "You get where I’m coming from. The idea," he goes on as Dr. Riley nods, "is comforting. I like knowing it's still there if I need it."

"Realistically speaking," she asks, putting her words together carefully, "wouldn't it always be there if you really needed it?"

Loki opens his mouth to argue, but she's right. Even with no one greasing the skids, he could be lit in this town (most any town) inside of an hour. He doesn't want to be - hasn't wanted to be - so he isn't. That's really what's stopping him. "Yes," he concedes, grudgingly.

"The only true difference is that, if you get rid of your old number," she explains, "you reclaim full control."

He ponders that for a minute or two before deciding - unsurprisingly, considering she's _been there_ \- that she's right again. He nods.

"When did you get that number," she asks him. “Originally, I mean.”

"After Malekith shot me," Loki says softly, and then catches himself. "That's when I got it _back_. I already had it before I went to jail." He shudders; he's starting to catch on to where she's going with this line of questioning and he really doesn't like it. "It's not the pills, is it," he offers before she can ask what he's feeling. "It's a link back to- to the only people who cared whether I lived or died." He huffs out a quick whoosh of air, then inhales sharply. "Or so I believed at the time," _and for a long time afterwards, really_.

"And what do you believe now," she asks, ducking and twisting so he has to make eye contact. That, or intentionally look away.

He shuts his eyes instead, just too long to pass off as _blinking_. "I know intellectually that quite a few people care now. Some of them may even have cared then." Whereas Malekith undoubtedly doesn’t, and didn’t. "But I still _feel_ like I'm fucked, I guess."

Dr. Riley lifts one hand. For a moment or two it almost seems like she's going to reach out and touch his arm, which isn’t like her. In the end she changes course and grabs her mug of tea. "You'll get there." she assures him. "I know you will."

"I should get rid of my phone number," he admits to her, resigned. Drained. Loki knows this bit already; he's been hearing it (what feels like but, yes, isn't really) non-stop from caregiver after caregiver, ever since he got back into treatment. Involuntarily.

She nods. "It would be a good idea, if you're ready."

He manages a weak little smile. "Maybe I can wheedle a shiny new phone out of Thor."

Dr. Riley actually laughs. "Like you can't buy your own."

Loki half-grins, a pointy, naughty little smirk. "Of course I can. It’s just that… this way would be much more fun."

~

He flips the shiny new thing - golden shell, black screen, green-and-black shock-resistant cover - over and over between his hands. It is sleek and glossy, without a single scratch or smear or ding. It's so, so pretty.

Loki loves it.

He's still unsettled, still sick and afraid, but he loves it.

"Piss me off now," he tells his brother across the center console, "and I'll set your ringtone to _Call Me Maybe._ "

Thor laughs, eyes off the road for barely half a second. “You wouldn’t dare.”

"Oh? Try me. I'm serious," Loki insists, but his brother only laughs again.

~

He doesn't wave his pretty toy around at dinner, but he does share his new number with Sif. And Steve. Loki won't let anyone actually touch his phone yet - Not so soon! Baby is brand new! - and they graciously don't pressure or tease. Instead, they ooh and ahh and text him so he can add them as contacts.

No one acts like he’s done anything strange; listening to them you'd think people got new numbers every day.

Maybe sane people do.

And they even still want to be friends with him afterwards.

~

"Mmph," Loki growls in muffled protest as his brother crushes lip against teeth. Again. "It goes in a whole lot easier if you slick it up first," he complains as soon as his mouth is free.

Thor ignores the innuendo and simply grins. "I thought the whole point was for this to hurt you," he says, letting the offending ball dangle from its straps.

"The _point_ ," Loki snaps, although he's fighting not to smile, "is to keep me from terrorizing the neighbors. Remember?" He’s just playing around, not trying to fight. Not even a little. They haven’t had sex of any sort in days and days and, all things considered, he’s feeling incredibly fortunate just now.

Still, he can’t help but make it a bit of a game.

“Slick. It. Up,” he reminds, helpfully, when his brother just stands there holding the gag. He gestures. “You know, get it wet?” Even in the filtered glow of the streetlight below them he can see Thor is blushing furiously. “And then you can, you know, shut me up with it?”

“But how-,” his brother starts.

“Ball _gag_ ,” Loki reminds brightly.

“Yes, I _know_ , you little shit,” Thor retorts. He’s not actually angry, though; he’s embarrassed, and playing some too. “What I meant was, how do I _slick it up,_ as you so graciously termed it. Seriously. You don’t want a mouthful of lube, do-?”

Loki rolls his eyes. “You lick it?” He could offer to lick it himself, of course, but letting Thor get there by going the long way around is far more fun. That, and- it’s been a while. Rushing right into it is all too likely to result in rushing right to the end, and no one wants _that_. Least of all Loki, who would vote for being fucked all night if that was one of his choices.

Thor glances down at the ball and makes a face. “But it’s been in your _mouth_.”

“Barely,” Loki reminds him, laughing. “But, really? All the places _your_ mouth has been, and now you’re worried about smearing a little of my spit on your tongue?”

He can see the precise moment the light comes on.

“ _YOU_ lick it,” Thor orders, thrusting it right in his face.

Loki does, beautifully and with grace; so much so that his brother groans.

Especially when Loki wraps a delicate tongue around Thor’s fingers.

~

He hadn’t really stopped to consider how, with the thing actually in his mouth and its strap properly fastened (with, for once, almost none of his hair caught up in the buckle!), he would no longer be able to coach Thor or point him in the right direction. The best he can do is kneel on the long part of the heavy, padded chaise, facing the street. He grabs onto the railing in front of him, saliva already trailing down his chin, and hopes his brother gets the picture.

Thor doesn’t let him down, as it turns out.

The lube is mint, judging from the scent and the faint burning sting, and from the way it feels surprisingly cold inside him as the first blunt finger presses in. Loki wriggles and arches and shuffles his own knees farther apart; he is appreciating the living _hell_ out of this and is determined to show it.

Before he loses himself to it and can’t anymore, that is.

It does hurt, a little, especially when one finger becomes two becomes three a little more quickly than his neglected body can comfortably handle. He can’t really pant through it, either, not with his mouth so full. He tries to protest; it comes out his nose as an awkward, reedy little whimper.

Loki tosses his head, hands still clinging to the railing, and twists to try to get a look at his brother’s face. Thor looks- reverent.

Okay, who cares that it hurts? This is so, so worth it.

“ _Fuck,_ Loki,” his brother rasps. “You look- are you- can I?”

He’s not 100% sure what Thor means. Not that it’s a problem, as the answer is guaranteed to be _yes_ regardless. Loki nods enthusiastically, doing his best to pretend he’s a dignified person who does not have his brother’s fingers up his ass and who is not slinging spit everywhere.

If only.

The question must translate to _can I fuck you;_ without further ado, Thor does. He starts off slow and gentle, one hand (the slimier one) settled on Loki’s hip and the other trailing up to trace the leather strap securing the gag.

 _Oh god_ , Loki thinks. He has _missed_ this; a few days of going without feels more like it’s been a few years.

~

He _can_ roar around the gag, it turns out, even thought doing so does something a little weird in his sinuses. Still, it’s fine; it’s worth it, even, because Thor clamps a big hand over Loki’s mouth, drippy saliva and gag and all, and pistons into him like an animal.

~

It’s not long before his brother is too busy (getting himself off, and) keeping him quiet to remember to help Loki out. That’s fine, too, especially once Thor lets him wrap one hand around his own erection without comment.

Right about then Loki stops caring what his brother is doing. In fact, up until a good bit after he ejaculates across the balcony floor and out through the railing, he’s really paying no mind to Thor at all.

Not even half a minute later, though, Loki – with Thor’s teeth sunk in his shoulder and Thor’s cock stuttering and pulsing deep inside him – finds he doesn’t have to worry that his inattention mattered.

~

Cleaning the balcony up can and will wait.

They’re a mess. They should shower, Loki knows, but he’s simply too tired. _It’s been quite a day_ , he tells himself as he lets Thor pull him – barely wiped clean, still sweaty and panting – into bed.

Quite a week, really. And yet, somehow, here he is. Here they are.


End file.
